Begin With The End in Mind
March 3, 2016
No matter what it is, ending well matters.
Whether a much needed vacation, retirement from a meaningful career, ending a relationship, navigating a courageous conversation, saying goodbye to a parent, or the last line in your manuscript, ending well there starts right here. By now we have hopefully learned that absolute control over anything is…well..a joke. However, mindful consideration of a desired outcome can help us better order our steps from here to there. But while we can work mightily to achieve a goal, make things go our way, craft a specific outcome, influence another person, or take all the right steps, there will always be an element of “it’s a crap shoot”. If we focus solely on exactly how we would like things to turn out, we’ve missed the deeper issue. What matters even more than how it turns out, is who we are in that moment. The essence of beginning with the end in mind can be summed up in one question: When the end of whatever “it” is comes, who do we want to be?
Examples of endings are everywhere. Some that end well, and others not so much. Whether you are an NFL fan or not, this years Super Bowl is a prime example. The Carolina Panthers, led by their talented, brash young quarterback Cam Newton, were the hands-down favorite. Expected by everyone, including themselves, to win. They didn’t. By a long shot. An hour after the game, Cam Newton stepped in front of the microphone as the leader of his team, to fulfill his media obligation. Hoodie pulled low over his face, he sat in a chair, eyes down, gave short sullen answers until getting up and walking out mid-interview. Did he want to win? Of course! Why else would he play the game? Had he given thought to who he wanted to be, win or lose? Apparently not. Compare that to last years Super Bowl when the Seattle Seahawks, led by their talented, humble young quarterback Russell Wilson, experienced an even more devastating loss. Expected by many, including themselves to win, they didn’t. Within seconds of winning the game, with that ill-fated, still debated call…. they lost. An hour later Russell Wilson stepped in front of the microphone as the leader of his team, to fulfill his media obligation. Suit and tie, he stood, faced the camera, expressed appreciation for his teammates, took responsibility for the loss, and praised the winning team. Did he want to win? Yes! Why else would he play the game? Had he given thought to who he wanted to be win or lose? Apparently so.
One of the greatest lessons in ending well came for me personally when my mom passed away. Her name was Ashby, and the word that best describes who she was and how she walked through the world is ‘grace’. There was nothing Asbhy loved more than what she liked to call a “good visit”. Whenever you showed up on her doorstep, announced or not, whatever the task at hand was set aside and replaced with a cup of tea, served in her best china. She was short on advice and long on understanding. She loved by listening. The last week of her life we brought her back from the hospital to the home she loved and tucked her into the bed she still shared with my dad. Every day was filled with her grace, along with a constant stream of friends and family who came by for one more good visit. They would sit on her bed and talk to her, sing to her, laugh and cry with her. No longer able to speak, she did what she did best. She loved by listening. After she was gone, I realized that I had been given the opportunity to stand at the end of her life, and look back on my own. From that vantage point I understood that ending her life with grace wasn’t the result of some grand decision, but rather is an accumulation of choices.
As I reflect on this topic I am reminded of something Mr. Carson, the butler of Downton Abbey said. “The business of life is the accumulation of memories. In the end, that’s all we have.” The way in which we end things is either the accumulation of a memory or a regret. To gather more memories, begin with the end in mind.
What endings are on your radar screen? When the end of whatever “it” is comes, who do you want to be? What would ending well in those situations mean? Now is when ending well starts. Here is where it begins. This present moment is what you have to work with.
This blog post also appears on Trailhead Coaching & Consulting
Harbors of Grace
June 7, 2015
Harbors of Grace
by Molly Davis
A dear friend is moving to a town in Maryland named Havre de Grace….Harbor of Grace. It is a perfectly named town for her new home, as she is a grandmother raising one of her beloved granddaughters who, without the need for any shared details, has found in her grandmother’s love and devotion, a harbor of grace in which to live for a few short years. As a card I recently read said, “A ship in a harbor is safe. But that is not what ships are made for.”…..We are not meant to live in the safe waters of a harbor forever either. But, we all have need of shelter in our storms. Ours is to know when to seek the safety of a harbor, and when to provide that for someone else in need.
My best friend Kristine’s almost 90 year old momma, Darlene, passed away yesterday. During the days and hours and moments before she left us, harbors of grace showed up everywhere. Read the rest of this entry »
The Gift of Pain
March 26, 2015
“Be sure and stay ahead of the pain.” Words from the pharmacist years ago as I picked up yet another bottle of addictive pain medication for my 20 year old daughter who had recently had her tonsils removed. Being a “push through the pain” kind of girl, I asked her just what the hell that meant anyway. It seemed to me that having the courage to tough it out was the better approach. One to be proud of and that showed the strong stuff of which I am made. “The body, when faced with the choice of dealing with the pain, or healing the injury, can only focus on one of those and, in the proper order” she replied. ” Resolve the pain. Heal the patient.” In other words healing is hindered when pain is ignored. Heading back home, I resolved to help her heal by helping her resolve her pain.
Our bodies are but a microcosm of the greater whole. Found embodied in our relationships and in the body of the world, pain is everywhere. Close to home and in the farthest reaches of the world. It is within our hearts and our homes, amidst our communities and countries, in the halls of our organizations and schools. Unresolved pain is wracking our planet and threatening our shared futures large and small, and is an indication that there is healing to be done.
Pain hurts. Deeply. Acutely. Sharply. Chronically. Our natural reaction to pain is to avoid it. Afraid of the hurt we react in fear, provoking ancient coping mechanisms. Fight, flight or freeze.
Putting up our dukes and hitting back causes further injury.
Running for cover furthers us from the healing we long for, but can’t see because we are facing the wrong direction.
Hunkering down and refusing to budge drives pain deeper and healing further away.
When it comes to resolving the pain in our lives, none of those lead to the healing that is waiting for us on the other side. Wherever the pain exists, it is calling us to attend to it fully, in order to more fully live. It requires that we dive deeply into the pain in order to get to the bottom of it.
Pain is our call to action in order to heal that which is broken.
Pain is the canary in the mine alerting us that we are running out of air.
Pain is the lighthouse exposing the rocks which will dash our ship to pieces if we don’t steer with care.
Pain is the warning sign alerting us to dangers ahead.
Pain is the breadcrumb path that leads to wholeness.
Pain is the care package that must be unwrapped in order to receive the gift of healing.
Healing trumps holding on to old hurts.
Healing beats clinging to our stories that keep us stuck in old chapters.
Healing always outlasts winning.
Healing outshines the darkness of resentment.
Healing is a cut above the festering wounds of unforgiveness.
Healing forges wholeness out of the holes in our hearts.
Wherever the pain, it is the doorway through which healing awaits. Pain speaks the truth. The truth sets us free.
Living a FULL Life
March 6, 2015
I believe that we are meant to live fully. Read the rest of this entry »
X Marks the Spot.
March 3, 2015
“No one longs for what he or she already has, and yet the accumulated insight of those wise about the spiritual life suggests that the reason so many of us cannot see the red X that marks the spot is because we are standing on it…. The only thing missing is our consent to be where we are.”
Barbara Brown Taylor
The starting line is here.
Now.
This moment.
Whatever is to come next in our life begins right now.
And right now.
And right now. Read the rest of this entry »
Margins
September 13, 2014
The Need For Space by Molly Davis
Imagine a book in which the pages have no margins, or a photo where the image fills the frame with no space in which to sit. The empty space is as important as the rest. For it is the emptiness in which the words fill the page, the art the canvas, the photo the wall. Without it the power of the words and beauty of the image is lost. Or at best, diminished. In order to be fully there, they have need of some space. So do we. Read the rest of this entry »
The Practice of Practice
September 12, 2014
Practice what you practice.
Whatever you practice, you become good at.
Know that you are practicing something in every moment.
You may be practicing self loathing, kindness, anger, acceptance, love, fear or grace. If you are not practicing something consciously, you will be doing so unconsciously.
So, be conscious of what you are practicing now. Know that whatever you are nurturing will encourage or discourage you.
(thank you, Ann-Marie Ahye)
She Said…
December 19, 2011
She said she couldn’t do it. She said that she would rather die than leave her home. She said that she was so lonely she just couldn’t imagine facing another day. She said that if we took her car away she would just buy a new one. She said that, that dent in the front of her car was not her fault because she didn’t remember hitting anything. She said that she was not as old as all the old people in the dining room. She said that she was afraid she couldn’t keep up. She said she didn’t want to live like this. She said she wanted to see my father one last time. She said she hadn’t slept in nights. She said she slept like a baby. She said she still couldn’t find the bathroom. She said she learned to Wii bowl. She said she missed her own kitchen. She said the food was really good. She said the Girl Scouts who came to carol were adorable. She said she couldn’t wait for baby Eloise to come visit. She said she made a new friend. She said she thought this might turn out all right. She said thank you.
Night Vision
October 6, 2011
There are times, when darkness is all there is. When I hold my weary hand up in front of my face, there is nothing there…no light, no hope, no relief. I panic. I want there to be light. I want an answer, a reprieve, a savior. I hate the feeling of being immobilized and stopped. I have stuff to do, things to get accomplished, people to serve and lives to save. I cannot afford to waste my time in the dark, accomplishing nothing. And yet…there it is. It wraps around me like thick fog on a San Francisco morning. No matter how hard I strain to see through it, nothing changes….
So I have no choice but to give in, surrender to the stillness of it all. Waiting for light, knowing I cannot hurry it. Do I feel helpless? Yes! Then I start to feel acceptance; really what else is there when you cannot change what is. I cannot force the sun to come up it does what it does of it’s own accord. I must wait. While I am waiting, can I rest? Can I rest enough to gather energy for what is ahead? Certain animals hypernate…maybe that’s what this is. Maybe allowing for this time of inactivity I am insuring my strength for what surely is to come. My willingness to sit in the dark is my offering to the light that is inevitable.
Love Is All That Matters
September 29, 2011
We are living in insane times. It is every where: record numbers of people living on the streets, going hungry. Our financial foundation compromised to it’s core: lost jobs, lost homes, lost dreams. AND YET…in-spite of what is hard, and painful and devastatingly real, if we are loved and truly love someone else, there is light at the end of any dark tunnel. After all, love is the one thing that at the end of each of our lives, we won’t regret, and wish there had been more of. My treasured friend, Hollye Dexter says it all…”love is all that matters”.
WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 28, 2011
Lessons Learned At A Funeral
Love is all That Matters
September 29, 2011
We are living in insane times. It is every where: record numbers of people living on the streets, going hungry. Our financial foundation compromised to it’s core: lost jobs, lost homes, lost dreams. AND YET…in-spite of what is hard, and painful and devastatingly real, if we are loved and truly love someone else, there is light at the end of any dark tunnel. After all, love is the one thing that at the end of each of our lives, we won’t regret, and wish there had been more of. My treasured friend, Hollye Dexter says it all…”love is all that matters”.
WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 28, 2011
Lessons Learned At A Funeral
Tempest
September 6, 2011
breaking every bone,
ending every sentence…
I’m falling up now, as through water.
Head, then shoulders
collar bones filled with sand;
Tiny stones splitting my skin.
and I’m sinking
sinking, sinking upward.
What a perfect manner in which to stow away an epic;
deep into a dusty corner on your lowest shelf,
along with all your classics.
The sea echoes in my chest
slow, undulating waves wash away the land.
Somewhere in the lazy, hazy days of summer
my ‘self’ slipped from me.
It was replaced with the callouses on your hands
with your humming in the shower,
your furrowed brow reading the morning news;
your favorite ice cream, your fears, your sleep talking
you, you, you.
and gone, myself, whom I’ve traded to have you
http://katevanraden.wordpress.com/
Willing to Hurt by Molly Davis
April 7, 2011
It seems that lately, I just can’t stop crying. Pain is everywhere. Sadness abounds, and grief is abundant. It just seems to be a very, very, very real part of life. In fact there are days, weeks, months where it seems to be the central character in my story. It isn’t that I have a sad life, or even that I have experienced an abundance of personal tragedy. But there is, no doubt about it, a very deep well filled with heartache.
The funny thing is, I don’t think that this is a bad thing. Not that I love to cry until I can’t see or breathe, nor do I look forward to the days that pain and sorrow fill my heart till I think I might actually die. But I have come to believe that pain has a purpose. It can, if I let it, become the doorway to compassion and kindness, love and tenderness. As I sit with the hurt, and just let it wash over me, I am able to understand that this is part of what makes each of us human, and, that it is part of the richness of life. It makes it possible for me to see, understand and connect to the hurt in those around me. And hopefully it helps me to sit with them in the midst of their pain.
There have been times when I have done everything I could to avoid the hurt. I have tried to buy my way out of it, redecorate it, medicate it, sleep it way, sweat it out, and just plain pretend that it wasn’t there. But it is. The truth is, I live with a hole in my heart. I think we all do. It comes from past regrets, choices that we would give anything to take back, unexpected loss, wounds inflicted by others, and the shadowy glimpses of what is no longer possible. Some days the other part of my heart, that part that is whole, and strong beats louder. And other days,the sound gets sucked into that hole, and I follow it right down into the depths. I’ve quit trying to hide from it, because it is all part of the heart that is mine. Trying to have one without the other is like trying to separate the waves from the ocean.
I am absolutely not a poet. Never have been, and most likely never will be. But years ago, sitting in my college dorm room, lonely, homesick and heartbroken, the one and only poem I have ever written came spilling out. It seems that even back then, at some level far, far below my consciousness, I understood that pain was important. Here is what I wrote;
Pain and love go hand in hand
One often leading the other
But the led need not struggle against the leader
For they both travel to the same place
They go to the clear, bittersweet pool of human experience
Where each may drink freely from one cup
Having once looked into such waters
one will never again settle for the cloudy, shallow pools of comfort,
which do not reflect, but simply swallow the reflection
When you seek love
look also for pain
and welcome it
that you too may drink deeply.
NOW YOU SEE IT… NOW YOU DON’T
March 29, 2011
I live at the base of a mountain. Not just any mountain either. This is a glorious, grand, majestic, dramatic mountain. It is perfectly framed in my living room windows. You can’t miss it. It is a show stopper. Their first time here, people often say, “It’s almost as if you planned the house so that the mountain would sit dead-center in those windows.” The fact is, we did. Of course we planned it that way. We wanted the killer view, the picture perfect view. The kind of view that you only see in magazines.
But you see, the thing is, while some days she is out in all of her glory, other days, often days on end, she is shrouded in clouds and fog. Other days, the only thing visible is the very top, or the sloping base. There are days when the clouds come and go, and of course therefore, so does the mountain. The truth of the matter is that whether we can see the mountain or not, it is always, Always, ALWAYS there.
I think there is a deeper, more subtle reason that we look out at this breathtaking peak. It serves as a reminder, and as a great teacher of things far more important and moving than a great view.
So just what are those things? Faith! Purpose!
Faith~
I believe in God. I can’t explain exactly what that means, or exactly how he or she operates in the world. I just know that there is something far bigger than me, than humanity, than this planet at work in the world. I find life too full of miracles, creativity, joy, pain, devastation and mystery to be able to be explained away with reason, a big bang and eons of interactions between energy and matter. Somehow, I believe that God is involved with us and with our world, and we are meant to be the human face, hands, heart, mind and soul of our Creator. However, there are many days that I forget that bigger picture and get caught up in my little life. On those days, I find it hard to put one foot in front of the other for myself, much less even think about how I might serve a greater good to the world that is within my grasp. And so, my mountain serves to remind me of that greater presence. When I look out and the sun is shining on the brilliant, snow covered peak, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that that something bigger is here, there and everywhere. But on those days when all I can see is dark, grey clouds, I have the chance to practice living with faith, by reminding myself that just because my life is socked in, that sacred presence is there just the same.
Purpose~
Each one of us adds to the world what no one else can. Which means, we all have a purpose and a calling, and in the finding and in the following, our gifts can bring good to the world. When my daughters were small, my purpose was clear. Those were days of clear blue skies and not a cloud in sight. My purpose… to love, nurture, guide and protect. Everyday, not always perfectly, but always with intention, a huge part of my purpose was to help those precious girls grow up and become strong, wise women in their own rights. As they grew and changed, so did my purpose. And to be honest, the skies were less clear, and more often than not, the clouds rolled in, and it was hard to see very far down the road. My role too, became cloudy. It seemed to be one of being available, but not intrusive, offering counsel but not direction, and opening my ears, and shutting my mouth. Frankly, sometimes I did this with spectacular success, and other times I failed miserably. Now I am at a new place. My daughters are grown and living their lives, managing their choices and navigating their successes and failures on their own. Not that we aren’t still connected. We are, and I am grateful. But is isn’t what it was, and it won’t ever be that again. I know that. I appreciate that. I respect that. In the midst of it all, I also have good work, meaningful work. All that said, there are days that I totally and completely lose sight of my purpose. Somehow it was so much easier to know what that was when that meant making sure that my daughters were safely strapped into their car seats, and we ended every night under the covers with a book.
These days, what often reconnects me to my purpose is the mountain. It looms large out my window, whether I can see it or not. So does my purpose, and so does yours and yours and yours. If my experience with the mountain offers any lessons in the matter it is this, even when you can’t see it, it is there. My hero, Annie Lamott claims that we are all here in Earth School. Perhaps our greatest lesson is to find our purpose. To find the work and contribution that is ours, and ours alone to give. And then, to offer that to the world with all of our might, and all of our mind, and all of our soul.
The mountain out my window helps me keep that in mind.
“I will lift up mine eyes unto the mountains: From whence shall my help come?”
~Psalm 121
“Climb every mountain….” Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music
written by Molly Davis
The United Nations…of sorts
March 21, 2011
Jack, our perfectly fine black dog, lives in the country. He knows no fences so therefore knows all the neighbors, their goats, chickens and various other farm creatures. He is free to roam and yet stays pretty close to home. He has lived this lifestyle his entire life. We are now considering leaving our rural digs for those conveniently located in the heart of Portland. We are ready to trade our endless view, spacious silence and herds of grazing elk for fuel economy, less yard work and a walk to the local library.
Jack is going to have to get used to Dog Parks and off-leash sites around the city…We visited such a playground today. As I watched him romp with a dozen strange pooches I felt like I was at the Canine United Nations. I swear that Moammar Gadhafi of the dog world was there, growling and snapping until his owners leashed him and pulled him out of the fray. Once he was removed the tension in the group subsided. There was Sweden, in the body of an old beagle; curious, but ready to give any other dog, who felt so inclined, the lead. Mexico was represented by a couple of happy chihuhuas…France was bounding about trying to get all the guys to play together. Iran and Iraq kept to themselves somewhat, sticking close to the boarders.
There were different personalities, with different values, beliefs and needs, yet the group got along. There was a bit of struggling for position, some fear to overcome…but all in all there was respect, tolerance and a bit of grace.
I think Jack is going to do just fine. All he wants is to be friends with anybody who will have him. He doesn’t know how to discriminate.
Not a bad way to go through life.